Held Accountable
by Footloose Poets
Summary: Peter learn how to be hurtful. Homecoming AU: android Peter and creator Tony


**Hi all! Sorry this took a little while to get uploaded here. I meant to put it up around the same time as I posted it to ao3 but it's been a while now...  
**

 **This fic assumes knowledge of this AU - more of which you can find on my profile.**

 **Speaking of this AU, I have started a blog for it! The tumblr username is friendly-neighborhood-android for anyone interested. There you will find unposted ficlets, answered questions and even some art. Feel free to check it out!**

 **This is set early in Android Peter's life, so he still has a lot to learn.**

 **Cross-posted to ao3 under Footloose_Poets**

* * *

"…Dad?"

Tony doesn't like that voice. That's Peter's just-reminding-you-how-much-I-love-you-before-you-yell-at-me voice.

He doesn't look up from his computer. "What happened?"

Peter is silent. Tony waits. He hears the awkward shuffling of feet.

He sighs, looking up. "Just tell- _what the hell?_ "

"I'm really really sorry!" Peter immediately cries, even as he throws up his arms and _his left hand is a mangled mess_.

" _What happened?_ " Tony asks – shouts – again.

"It was an accident!"

"No shit! Tell me how it happened!"

Peter then turns sheepish, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I was looking at your drill," he says.

"My drill," Tony repeats. "My drill, being the huge experimental plasma-field drill I'm developing in the workshop?"

Peter nods.

"And you destroyed your hand by _looking_ at it?"

"…No." Peter's voice is small. "I didn't just look at it."

Tony has to close his eyes and take a deep breath. _Steady. He's four months old. Just a kid. Patience._

"Pete, you know if your body was a meatbag like mine you probably would have died about six times already?" he says.

"But it's not," Peter pointed out.

"That's not the point." Tony sighs, trying to rub the tension out of his brow. "I tell you not to touch things for a reason, kid."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I'd be sorry if I lost my hand too." Tony stands and moves towards the door. "Come on, I'll replace it, then no workshop for a week."

Peter stops dead in his tracks. "What?"

"You're banned from the workshop and the lab for a week."

Peter's eyes widen. "Why?"

" _Why?_ " Tony crosses his arms over his chest. "Because look at your hand, Peter. Wouldn't have happened if you'd done what I said."

"But I said sorry!"

 _Just a kid._ "And I accept your apology, but you're still banned."

"Why?"

 _Patience._ "Apologising tells me you feel bad about what you did," Tony explained slowly. "But feeling bad doesn't make up for your actions."

He turns and walks out the door towards the elevator.

Peter runs after him. "But Bruce is coming over! I wanna help you guys, please."

Tony doesn't waver, even as Peter tries five more times to have his ban revoked on their way to the workshop. Eventually he devolves into "please, Dad" and "please, I'm sorry" and in general lots of pleases.

As he repairs Peter's hand, Tony keeps telling himself that he can't go back on his word – no matter how much it seems like it's upsetting his android. He needs to do the father thing _right_. This is _right_. This is _okay_.

It's a little hard to believe.

After he finishes the repair, Peter doesn't thank him. Tony notices.

"Boss, Dr Banner is arriving on your floor," FRIDAY calls.

"Okay Small Wonder, you can say hi and then we gotta work," Tony says.

Peter, still flexing his new hand, simply gives him an annoyed grunt.

The door to the workshop eases open and Bruce pokes his head in. For a moment, everyone is silent and it's clear he realises that he's just walked in at the end of something.

"Uh, morning," he says quietly, shuffling in.

Tony seizes the opportunity and strides towards him. "Uncle Bruce! How are you?"

"Please don't call me that," Bruce mumbles. "Hi, Peter."

He gives an awkward wave. Peter waves back with a tight smile. It's definitely _not_ his usual response to Bruce's presence.

"Number Five's upset because he's banned from science work," Tony explains.

"Ah." Bruce looks like he wants to ask more, but just nods.

"Okay kid, ban time starts now."

Peter's eyebrows immediately draw together in a frown. He stares at his new hand and doesn't budge from his chair.

"Peter."

His gaze moves up to Bruce, but the man doesn't give him anything to work with and he drops it again.

" _Peter_. I said _now_."

He finally stands. "Plasma-fields are stupid."

Tony blinks. He has to pause for a moment because he's sure he misheard.

"What did you just say?" he asks, not even trying to be stern.

Peter is still frowning at the ground. "Plasma-fields are stupid," he says a little louder.

Tony just laughs. Peter's head snaps up and his frown goes from angry to confused.

"Your drill design is stupid," he says this time.

"Wow." Tony _cannot_ stop his smirk. "Rush me to the burn unit."

Beside him, Bruce has ducked his head to hide his own spreading smile. Peter just looks stricken.

"Alright, that was amazing, thank you Pete," Tony says. "But now it's go-time."

He points at the door. Peter makes a displeased hum.

"I want to stay," he says.

"No," is all he gets.

Peter storms toward the door. He stops there.

"You're a bad dad."

 _Steady…_

 _Not steady_.

This isn't funny anymore.

Tony squeezes his nails into his palms.

 _Be better. Be better. Be better._

"Go to your room, Peter."

He only vaguely registers the android stomping off. He needs to breathe. There's a hand on his shoulder.

"He didn't mean it, Tony," Bruce tells him.

Tony nods. Bruce is probably right. He can rationalise that he is.

It still _hurts_.

"That, uh…" He flounders to re-focus. "Your… thing."

It takes Bruce a moment before understanding alights his face. "The bio-nanites?"

Tony nods again.

They begin work, and it's only half-effective. That flow of energy and focus doesn't come. Nano-technology is fun but Tony needs more to do with his hands. He finds himself fiddling with the array of unfinished projects scattered about the lab and Bruce has to call him in several times.

"Maybe you should talk to Peter," he says after the sixth time Tony ends up on the other side of the room.

Tony immediately shakes his head. "We need some space."

"Do you? You've had like two hours – _twenty_ hours in Peter's time," Bruce points out. "And it's just distracting you."

He's right, of course.

"FRIDAY, what's Peter up to?" Tony asks.

"Peter has been in his room since you sent him there, Boss," she reports. "He was moaning earlier but he is now standing against the wall. He's not doing anything."

Great.

"What happened between you two anyway?" Bruce asks.

"He played with something in the workshop without asking and lost a hand." Tony leans against the workbench and stares at their vial of nanites. "I said no workshop for a week."

Bruce nods.

"It's only a week," Tony continues. "He could have destroyed himself. He needs to learn."

Bruce leans back in his chair. "Has he been angry like that before?"

Tony mentally flicks through the last four months. "No."

"Oh. Wow. So this is the first time he's tried to hurt you?"

Is that what happened? He hates the sound of that. "Where are you going with this?"

Bruce puts his hands up in peace. "I just mean he's evolving."

 _No. No. Bad. Not again._

He must have seen Tony stiffen because he immediately backtracks. "He's growing up! That's what I meant. Like when kids go through the terrible twos? He's figuring out what he can't get away with."

Oh. _'But I said sorry!'_ Oh.

"He said I'm a bad father."

Bruce shrugs. "After you laughed at his attempt to say your drill design was stupid. And that plasma-fields were stupid." _Oh._ "He was looking for how to upset you."

Tony is reeling. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or hurt or angry.

"But why did he say _that_?"

"I don't know," Bruce admits, rubbing his neck. "Kids are mean?"

Well that answer is hardly reassuring.

"Boss," FRIDAY calls. "Peter wants to know if you're mad at him. What do you want me to say?"

"You gotta go talk to him," Bruce says.

"What would I say?"

"You could start with telling him you're not mad? _Are_ you mad?"

Peter's been standing stationary against the wall of his bedroom this whole time. Tony doesn't feel good, but it's hard to feel _mad_.

"FRIDAY, tell him I'll be up in a minute," he says. "Sorry about this, man."

Bruce waves it off, moving to pack up the equipment. "There's no rush. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. And thanks."

Tony walks out the door in more of a hurry than he probably should.

Peter still has his back to the far wall when Tony makes it to his bedroom. The android's eyes shoot to the door as it swings open and suddenly any confidence Tony might have gained in his determination to set things right is gone. He approaches slowly, Peter watching every move.

"Um." What was he going to say again? "I'm not mad—"

"You're not a bad dad," Peter blurts out. "I'm sorry I said you were. How do I make up for it?"

His shoulders are squared and his eyes are wide. He waits against the wall, staring, and Tony feels an awful, awful guilt for letting him do this for two whole hours.

"You have made up for it," he tells him.

"I was angry," Peter says as he lets Tony move forward and pull him into a hug. "I was just angry."

"I know."

"I thought sorry made things better."

"You have to back sorry up with action," Tony explains.

Peter pulls away to look at him. "How much action?"

That is the multi-billion-dollar question. Tony hasn't found an answer and he's been searching for years.

But maybe it can be simpler here.

"Look, Pete," he says, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Peter follows him. "A week out of the workshop is a long time, isn't it?"

"It's _really_ long," his android agrees.

"Well I'm not lifting it—"

Peter opens his mouth to protest.

"—But," Tony cuts in. "You can take time off it if you do chores."

Peter's eyes flash with hope. "What kind of chores?"

"Dum-E needs a full service so you can lose two days for that." Now that Tony's said this, he can't think of much he doesn't pay someone else to do. "And… polish my suits to take off a day. And… if you think of other tasks, we can negotiate your deductions. Deal?"

Peter nods immediately. "Deal."

"Are we friends again?"

"I want to be, Dad," Peter tells him.

He sounds so earnest and Tony wonders if there's a catch to all of this because it isn't supposed to be this easy to feel better – it never had been before now.

"Is Bruce still here?" Peter asks then.

"Yeah, he's probably still packing up. You can have your workshop privileges back for a second to go say goodbye if you want. He was very impressed with your little rebellion."

"Thanks Dad!"

Peter hugs him again and is out the door immediately.

"Please call him Uncle Bruce!" Tony calls after him. "He hates that!"

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 **Thanks for reading! You're all awesome!**


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